


Porcelain

by NaziFox



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Chaptered, Cussing, Het and Slash, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaziFox/pseuds/NaziFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a way, Roxas was porcelain. He was tragically, agonizingly beautiful, but far too easily shattered, beyond repair. (AkuRoku main. Other pairings will present themselves later. Roxas-centric. Slash, language.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> So this story has been clawing at the inside of my mind for a while now, and the idea kind of consumed my life. I don't write it out as much as I would like to but I will most definitely finish it, no matter how long it takes. Thanks for reading!

"You're being an ass today." My twin was looking at me with innocent eyes. Fucking bipolar, that's what I say. She's bipolar. The conniving sister I have is not here today. She will be tomorrow, though, I'm sure. She changes her personalities like she changes clothes.

"No I'm not," I bit back. I didn't even believe it. I glared through all the poor passers-by that dare cross my path. I parted the hallways like the Red Sea. They ran from me like I was the plague. Or maybe I was imagining it, whatever. They were still staying away from me.

"Come on, Roxas," She pleaded in a motherly tone. I inwardly groaned, because a snowball has a better chance in Hell than I do versus a motherly Naminé.  
"Tell me what's wrong."

And that was the end of it. I'd end up gushing and she'd listen and then blackmail me, and I'd have to do something unpleasant. I refused to go down without a fight, though.  _You have to try,_ I mentally chanted to myself.  
"Nothing." It came out flatly, lifeless, with no emotion. I decided it would be best if I ran the rest of the way to art class, alone. I'd have to explain to her, I could accept that. But not right then. It was simply not an option. I parked my ass at the back of class, even though I was almost ten minutes early and rhyming accidentally. I stared at the ceiling, doing my best to avoid my ass-hat of a teacher, Xaldin. God knows I hate him. He's a brute of a man who wouldn't know what art was if it bit him in the ass. It's like telling a black bear to teach an embroidery class.

I cursed at the structure above my head, willing it to fall and kill me.  
I hated the building, with such a passion. This building, that claims to teach me, when really it's subjecting me to drunken parties and public humiliation.  
Not that it's extremely unusual for me to hate something. I hate everything, really. Among those things there may be an annoying redhead or two. Say there is an annoying redhead, why do I hate him?

He's too nice.

He's not nice. Not to anyone.  **Except for me**. He's a dick to everyone, treats other people like shit on his shoe and they all love him for it. But me, no, he's  **kind** to me, and I find myself shocked that the word is in his vocabulary, much less that he can achieve such an emotion as kindness. It haunts me at night, not that I'd ever tell anybody that.  **Ever**. No, I would never outwardly admit that an attractive, annoying, asshole being nice to me keeps me up at night.  
That's what my problem was. That's why I was being so bitter and emo, because I'd been enrolled in this shit heap of a school for a month, and then he popped up and excused his absence in his asinine way of doing things. Two months later, I'm in hell. When he showed up I thought absolutely nothing of it. Sure, he's attractive, but it's out of character for me to look at the jackass of the crowd twice. I thought he was just another guy, that I was going to be able to ignore on any occasion. Two months later, and I'm living in  **hell,** like I said. I get about two hours of sleep a night thanks to him, then I have to get up and drag my ass to all of my classes. And this morning, oh, this morning, well that takes it. No, I'm drawing the line here. Why, you may be wondering, was my morning so awful?

While I was showering, I had the absolute  **best**  sex of my life. It was with my hand. That's not the bad part, I'm used to that, I've been masturbating for almost four years. What was infuriating was that during that awesome hand sex, he was in my head. That's what  **made**  it awesome hand sex.  
And I hated him for it.

That's crossing the line.  
I've known I was gay, all my life, almost. So has Naminé. That's not the problem.

Imagine your worst enemy, your  **mortal enemy,**  climbing into your head and keeping you from sleeping every time you even bother trying for two months straight. Imagine that no matter what you say to him, he doesn't say anything terrible back, and you know he's doing it just to drive you crazy, to make you tick. Now, and this is just hypothetical, imagine he does it in front of everyone either of you may know. And you know he is just doing it because then they'll all say you have no valid hatred toward him. That you can't possibly have an excuse, because he's nice even when you're not, which is always.

I don't know about you, but it's obvious by now that he successfully **and intentionally** drives me insane.  
And not only that, I can't even masturbate right anymore? After I got dressed, I decided it was definitely time to end it. If nothing can be done, I'm switching schools whether my parents like it or not.  
I'm not spoiled.  
But they'd rather pay to put me into another school than see me drop out. Hell,  **my parents**  would rather drink bubbling acid than see me be unproductive.

After another minute or so of internally hating everything and everyone, other people who hated their lives started pouring into the classroom. What did you expect, lollipops and rainbows? It's an art class, for Christ's sake. Nobody who comes in here is  **actually**  happy, we're all tortured souls, begging to escape. That should be obvious. I mean really.

But, it doesn't really matter to me at all if anyone in art class is emo. I don't care about their hats, or their cheap wristbands that are just like mine, I don't care what their hair looks like. No, see, that's just a distraction. Because right now, all I truly care about is how much I hate Axel Moore.

**All I care about right now, is how badly I just want to gouge his eyes out with my mom's good silverware. How much I just want to stab him in the chest and play in what's left over.**

Okay. So maybe I'm a bit mentally disturbed. But when, during this narrative of my shitty life, did I claim sanity? It was then, in the middle of art, my phone started ringing, playing a lovely portion of a Mayday Parade song for the entire class. Ignoring the snickers from my various classmates whose names I still hadn't learned, and the plastered on Me-no-happy face my ape of a teacher was wearing, I pressed the phone to my ear gingerly and responded. It was a common response, an unenthusiastic "Hello," and a grin spread across my face at all the looks of pure hatred I was getting. At that moment, I didn't care much, because my favorite cousin was on the phone, and he was always capable of getting me out of a shitty mood.  
"No, I'm in the middle of my first period art class," I responded when he asked if I was busy, with a grin splitting my face in half. Xaldin was walking up to me in an attempt to be intimidating, and failing horribly.  
He stopped beside my desk while I ignored him, repeating "Uh-huh," several times before he cleared his throat and demanded my phone.

I nodded, and reached the comparably tiny cell out to his big gorilla mitts, and he promptly placed the phone against his ear.

"Hello, this is Mr. Strife's teacher," he introduced himself darkly with a cocky smile plastered across his face. "Yes, you see, I'm afraid you've interrupted my class."  
It was quiet for a moment aside from some mumbling on the other end of the line, while the bear shuffled uncomfortably, and the rest of us watched with amusement. Was he...? Did he blush?  
"No, that, err, won't be necessary. Yes, thank you." He clicked the end button and looked at me, appearing slightly traumatized, before walking back to the front of the class to "teach" us with shaky hands.  
I made a mental note to ask Sora just what he said that got such a reaction.

After about an hour of listening to Xaldin drone on about things he knew nothing about, we were freed from our prison. I was the first out, having successfully forgotten about my shitty life in the midst of pretending to learn, until I was greeted by a fuming Naminé and it all came crashing back down onto my head.

_So much for avoidance_ _._

She was tapping her foot, insisting I tell her my innermost secrets. Can't fight fate, I suppose. I skipped the rest of my classes that day, with Naminé. I was shocked she was skipping. Hell, I was surprised that I was skipping. I usually just ignored the douche-bag antics of the redhead in my classes.

He took the same classes, aside from his beloved drama class. Meaning that either he was intent on stalking me before we met, or we actually had things in common. I chose to believe the former, because the possibility of the latter generally made me want to hang myself.

Knowing I was a trapped animal when the Naminé situation was in question, I confessed absolutely everything. From the first day Axel and I met, I spilled all of it, pouring it onto Naminé.  
To my intense surprise, she didn't think I was ridiculous, she didn't laugh, she listened. She listened with a purpose, she was being my sister. I mean, I suppose it should have been expected, but the thought had completely evaded me. To think, that she actually cared enough to let me have this one moment, to just let everything out without having to worry she'd tell someone, it made me happy. It made me love Naminé more than I ever remembered loving her, and I knew that even when she was being annoying or unreasonable, there was that unspoken bond between us, formed when I let go of all my problems just once and let it all out.

"I think you should go talk to him, Roxas," She suggested with a calm, soft voice that I had heard very few times in our lives, with a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I wore my first genuine smile in a stretch of time that felt like forever, nodding my head, and set out to find him after offering Naminé a heartfelt 'thank you'.  
Acting solely on a hunch, I went straight for the balcony in the drama department. Or, optionally, the "big ass theater," which was the only very nice thing about the entire school. I gave myself a big pat on the back for guessing right, staring at the nearly hilarious view in front of me.

There was a table, covered in various assignments and scripts for the many roles Axel would play in indie films, directed and produced by his colleagues. And then there were crappy, plastic chairs with metal legs. One of said chairs was filled with a pale, lanky figure that had hair a few shades too red to look natural. It was snoring lightly, exhausted from it's studies.

I almost felt sorry for him, but not sorry enough that I didn't walk forward and slap him on the side of the head on my way to a decent looking office chair where I parked myself.  
"What?" He grumbled a bit nasally, pouting because he was awake.  
"Well, I thought you'd be happy to see me." I smirked, knowing this was going absolutely nowhere and nagging myself mentally to stop dancing around this and just ask him why the fuck he's so nice.  
"Why do you sound like Roxas?" Bless his odd little heart, he was still barely able to speak. I had to laugh, deciding that for the moment it was best to ignore the fact that he had my vocal sounds memorized. When I did, his head shot up, and he quickly wiped away his drool with a monotonously striped arm. He was shocked, apparently.  
"Why are you here?" He was looking around with a bit of panic, until finally he relaxed at the emptiness of the room, if that's what you could call it. His lowly tied hair was slightly a mess, and as if he read my mind, he took the elastic out of this hair and readjusted it. I pretended I wasn't watching.  
"Why are you nice to me?" My eyes drifted across the frames of the glasses he was wearing, and then to the darkly colored diamonds hiding behind them, drifting up to his slightly darker red eyebrows, where a shock of silver resided on the end of one. Up to the lightly showing dirty blond roots of his cherry red hair. Axel was like a hipster, plus crack and steroids.  
"Because I like you," the redhead stated obviously, with a charmer smile that I missed completely while I was lost in the ocean that were my thoughts after seeing a flash of silver I'd never noticed before when he spoke, and trying to fish for any logic behind what he said. I was oblivious.  
"But, that, what? I'm a dick to you every time you speak to me." He shrugged bony shoulders before voicing that he thought it was hot.

Now, how messed up was this guy, for thinking that my being mean to him was hot? I guess I don't have room to talk on levels of sanity though, considering how much I hate the guy was getting me off.

Struggling with my words, my vocal cords shut themselves off, and I just sat with a blank stare, my mouth hanging open, then closing like a fish in need of water, while he inched ever closer to me across the sea of papers until his ass was completely out of his chair and his face was inches from mine.

I felt my eyebrows get heavy, and force the confusion onto my face without permission, while I searched for something in the stripes less than half a foot in front of me.

Then, suddenly, I lost anything I may have grasped during the slight banter between the two of us as I felt foreign breath invading my mouth, and while my eyes flew upward mid gasp, the metal I knew I hadn't imagined clicked on my teeth while a hand held my cheek in a way that screamed his experience in the art of seduction. As my mind relaxed (or went into a coma, same difference,) my eyes slid closed and I lost all control of any muscle in my body. Especially the one in my mouth, that slowly started to massage Axel's, completely of it's own accord.

I felt him shifting slightly while he made his way around the table, and my body slowly unfolded itself out of the chair and against the metal rim of the cork table. And while my brain was buzzing and my throat was vibrating and I was struggling with proper breathing, my knees were near buckling as he bent me backwards over the scripts with words that didn't matter all over them. Just as I was sure I couldn't stand on my own anymore, he lifted me to sit on the surface, the crinkle of the papers shuffling under me assuring me it happened. I opened my eyes, but they only half cooperated. He finally broke away for air, while I ran a hand through his hair, noticing he ditched his lenses somewhere along the way. Sitting on the table, I was about an inch taller than him, and his breath was coming out just as heavy as mine was, until slender fingers made their way into my shirt through the buttons I hadn't noticed were opened. That's when everything went to hell. I couldn't tell you what happened in the next 30 minutes, but I know I walked out with several new hickeys, and I got a lot of crazy looks as I attempted to make my way back to the small 2 bedroom apartment I shared with General Bookworm himself.


	2. Self Proclaimed Slut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Roxas hits on straight men and learns about Heterochromia.
> 
> slut  
> noun /slət/  
> A slovenly or promiscuous woman.

I put one foot in front of the other to the beat of "The Flood" while I inhaled the sweet cancer between my lips. I was trying like hell to figure out why I was dressed so lightly with weather as cold as it was, and hoped to avoid General Bookworm when I got home so I could get a shower and some much needed sleep, no questions asked. About 3 blocks away from my house, an ugly blue sedan pulled up next to me and honked the horn. If I hadn't already known it was Demyx, the screaming sound the horn made would have been a dead give away. The passenger side window was cranked down ever so slowly.

"Are you ever going to buy a real car, Demyx?" I inquired, after taking the cigarette completely out of my mouth to avoid looking too manly, and trashier than I already did.  
"Don't talk about Napoleon that way! He'll hear you," Demyx said, petting the console between the seats.  
"Gosh!" I mocked him while I stomped my cigarette butt before I climbed into the passenger seat.  
"Onward, Napoleon," I mocked him further. "There is land to conquer."  
"You're ungrateful," Demyx joked.  
"You know it," I grinned, pulling the hood off of my head and cranking the window back up.

"What's up with your enthusiasm? Were you kidnapped by aliens or something?" Demyx joked, jabbing me in the arm with his finger, in a weird Demyx-y way of being endearing, or something.  
"I got laid," I said, and watched him grow uncomfortable. It made me laugh.  
"Are you a virgin or something?" I chuckled. Rarely was I in a mood pleasant enough to correctly pick on Demyx.

"No! It's just that, Jesus, I mean everyone I know is going out and fucking like bunnies. I thought sex was supposed to be sacred or something." He scoffed.  
"Calm down, I was joking, for the most part, but no. That was a few decades ago. Now it's all about notches in the proverbial bedpost. You're cute, though, being all hopeful in humanity. When was the last time you had an actual one-night-stand?"

"I don't know. Like a year ago? Whenever I played my last gig at that little place, you know the one with the really good water and like cake and stuff? Yeah, that one."  
For a moment it was silent. I waited for him to say something but he never did.  
"Oh my God Demyx, that's just wrong. How do you manage?" He chuckled.

"Well, my hand loves me, and is always right there when I need it. At least until I find a nice girl who fits that description." It was silent for a minute or two.  
"I'm never touching anything after you again."

A few more minutes of light banter and we arrived at the curb in front of my apartment. Demyx and I both climbed out of the trash-mobile.  
"Wait, you were coming here in the first place?" I turned and said.  
"No, Roxas, my Spidey Senses began to tingle when you started walking home and I figured I should find you and give you a lift. I'm just making sure nobody attacks you on the way to the door."

"Smart ass," I said.  
"You aren't the only talented one here," he said as he held open the door and bowed in a chivalrous act, wearing a stupid grin.  
"Dork, " I mumbled, as I made my way up the stairs with Demyx on my heels.

When my hand met the doorknob I decided I was too lazy to shower at the moment and made a beeline for the couch, flopping myself onto it, and subsequently flopping myself into Zexion's lap, from my shoulders up.  
"What it do, bookworm?" I teased, snatching his book and reading a few lines. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, showing the other half of his face for a few moments.  
"Well, I was reading," he mumbled. That's Zexion's equivalent of "Hint, hint."  
"Not anymore. Books are boring, let's do something, look, Demyx even came to hang out," I gestured toward my band-mate who was parked in the secondhand chair I managed to snag for FREE. Like a boss. Demyx threw up a lame little greeting-type hand movement.  
"Oh goody. But you're going to have to have all the fun without me. I have a class in 20 minutes and I have to stop for gas," he said, staring daggers at me. Or, well, dagger.  
"Hey, do you have two eyes, or just the one?" I asked. He rolled his eye.  
"Let me up." Ooh, demanding.

"I might consider it if you let me see the other half of your face," I said, scooting further onto his lap, ensuring he was going nowhere.  
I could totally take Zexion in a fight. I worked out.  
"I don't have time for this, Roxas." I was determined to see his other fucking eye.  
"We both know I'll win this, Zexion. Just show me your face."  
"No. I really need to go." He tried to stand up but his weak legs were no match for me.

"You can go when you show me your face."  
He sighed, and pouted for a minute before he pulled his hair out of his face and looked at me. He looked indifferent, besides the fact that he had a blush the shade of Axel's hair.  
"Dude, why do you hide that? It's so cool! Can you see okay?" Demyx was apparently interested...  
"My vision is fine. I just don't like the attention it attracts," he said coolly. He dropped his hair and looked back down at me. His blush was gone.  
"You might have a better social life if you would stop hiding it, though. It's a good ice-breaker, at least. I mean most people avoid you because they think you're an emo bastard." I was just saying. He seemed to have given up on escaping.

"I prefer it that way. Sociality is low on my list of priorities," he shrugged.  
"Damn Zexion. When you get back from class I am going flaming homosexual on your ass, we're doing a make-over." I grinned evilly. He seemed legitimately terrified as I climbed out of his lap and let him leave.  
Once he was gone it was silent for a few minutes.

I turned to Demyx, who looked thoughtful, in a naïve sort of way. When I started talking he snapped out of it.  
"We haven't had a practice in a while. Wanna call the guys over and try to make music?" I asked, grinning. Just the thought of having the gang together always made me smile. Even if we were nothing special, we had the best practices ever. My band-mates were my best friends.  
"Gnarly," Demyx muttered with a dreamy smile as he started typing a mass-text.

Demyx was cranking out the bridge to his favorite song by an obscure band nobody had really ever heard of on Shelby (his guitar), while I set up all the amps and, my weapon of choice, the mic. She was gorgeous, and she didn't really cost that much. Replacing her was a huge possibility, but it was really unlikely. She was my baby. Besides, what garage (apartment) band singer needs a $500 microphone?  
And although I did refer to her as if she were a person once in a while, at least I didn't name her.  
In the middle of mic check, another of my porcupine brethren entered my humble abode. This porcupine was equipped with a really sexy build, brown hair and blue eyes. It really was too bad he was straighter than straight can be.

"Hey, Terra. You feeling particularly homosexual today?" I asked, wiggling my eyebrows. And of course when I asked, Demyx caught notice of him too. I'd had to yell over him and Shelby making love.  
"In your dreams, shrimp," he poked back at me. We did that a lot.  
"Oh, you know it, sexy," I winked at him. Demyx was trying to breathe, if the color of his face and the strange choking noises he was making were any indication. Ah, yes. Demyx's laugh. The strangest anything ever. Terra laughed in his way of... not really laughing, before coming back with the ever popular "Why do I even hang out with you?"  
"Because I'm adorable, dammit! You know my voice is sexy." I was almost kind of worried about Demyx before he sucked in a deep breath and sighed, before breaking out into another fit of laughter.  
"Get fucked," Terra finished, poking me in the forehead roughly on the way to his drum set. Demyx rolled his eyes before he mumbled something along the lines of "poor choice of words, buddy" before turning back to his guitar.  
"My bedroom is right up the stairs, all you had to do was ask. We don't have to tell Aqua," I said, with bedroom eyes. Yes, bedroom eyes. An aid to my humor.  
"Where is she, by the way?" Demyx cut in. Terra shrugged.  
"Late, I guess. We're fighting so it may take an act of God for her to show up." I couldn't help myself. I really couldn't. I tried. I gave it my best shot. But I failed miserably to keep my mouth shut.  
"What, did she catch you checking me out?" I grinned. He rolled his eyes and scoffed.  
"Fuck you, Roxas." That was that, he was done, and just as I mumbled "oh, you will," just loud enough for him to hear, Aqua strolled in wearing sweats with her hair tied back. It might have just been me, but I swear I heard Demyx call the situation awkward under his breath. A bit of Terra's brown hair fell forward into his face when he slumped over where he sat. Straight men should not be allowed to look so good. Especially not in gray t-shirts with rolled up sleeves, worn out jeans with all sorts of rips and tears with their hair pulled back... That has to be against the rules. As soon as I realized I was staring, Aqua cleared her throat and looked at me, somewhat, she couldn't really look me in the eye... Then down to the floor as she walked over to where her own guitar sat. She gingerly plucked at the strings that looked so frail at the neck... Before turning slowly to face us all with her eyes pointed down.

"I've decided that it's for the best if I leave the band," she said, in a calm, quiet voice. Terra's head snapped up so quickly, for a second I thought he might have broken his neck. He opened his mouth to ask why, but she spoke over him before he could even ask.  
"Don't, interrupt me. I'm... leaving town, it's not you. It's nothing to do with you. I just have to go. I mean I'm going nowhere here, and I found myself a theater role in Hollow Bastion," she started, then looking to Demyx, and then to me, continued. "Sorry to just leave you guys hanging without a bassist. Really. But I have to go now if I'm ever going to make my plane. Bye, you guys. I'll try to keep in touch."  
And with that, she left.

"Wow, that was awkward, wasn't it?"  
"Shut up Demyx, Terra is obviously hurting right now!" I responded in a harsh whisper, punching him on the shoulder.  
"Ow..." he went off somewhere in the background and whined loudly for a while. I pulled up a stool beside Terra, where he still sat at his drums.  
"You okay?" I asked quietly, ignoring Demyx.  
He took a deep breath before replying. "Yeah, really sucks but, I don't know, I'll get over it."

"You know what you need?" He looked at me with one eyebrow cocked like he already knew what I was going to say. I placed a hand on his shoulder, waited a moment before sighing, and said: "A good old fashioned homosexual experience."  
He scoffed and pulled me into an awkward sitting hug that I hope was at least half as uncomfortable for him as it was for me.  
"Thanks. You're a good friend, Rox," he said, relinquishing his grip on me, and ruffling my hair that had taken about an hour to style that morning. I scowled, and for a moment, it was silent.  
"I wasn't joking about my bedroom being upstairs."

I woke up early the next day so I could hang up flyers in random places on my walk to class. As I stapled handmade flyer after handmade flyer to phone pole after phone pole, I wondered idly why I'd taken an eleven 'o clock class in the first place, and why I still hadn't bought a car. It's not like I couldn't really afford one. Like I said, rich parents. Yeah, I was one of those kids. It wasn't like I spent hundreds of thousands of dollars every month, though. I suppose a car was something worth the investment. I got excited and decided I was going to be impulsive and get one before the end of the week. With an occupied mind, I kind of accidentally ran into something. It was a person. A person who hated me, I think.

"Hey, pay some fucking attention, shrimp," growled a voice that I knew a little too well. Oh shit.  
I tried to wrap my head around the real world even though the sky was really bright, despite the big black shadow looming over me. I tried to focus on a face, anything besides blackness. Of course, I was right, I did know the pain in the ass it belonged to, and I was kind of afraid I was going to die. I whimpered a pathetic "sorry," before he grabbed my arm and prevented my escape.  
"Seife-r," I groaned... Or, well, whined. Welcome to the life of Roxas Strife, self-proclaimed whore of Twilight Town, defended from my own self-berating by all the devoted followers I really didn't know how I'd come to obtain, and welcome to the beginning of the struggle with local hottie and current ex-boyfriend, Seifer, who also happened to be a total jackass.


End file.
